Realities
by dancingknives
Summary: A series of independent yet related stories. Exploration into the personalities of various Xmen and their relationship dynamics. Very AU, so far focuses primarily on the Summers family
1. Last One Standing

NOTE

This story is very AU, I took the basic story of Vulcan (Gabriel Summers) and warped it to my fantasy. So a little background info might help (or just skip this):

1) Vulcan - Gabriel Summers is Scott's youngest brother. Long story short: he was born/raised with Shiar, found his way to earth, and oined a group of X-men. "Died" while saving other X-men, reawakened by energies of M-Day. In the REAL world of the comic, he already confronted Xavier and Scott, and is now on his way to take revenge on the Shiar. I obviously have ignored that.

2) The Summers brothers are immune to each other's powers. I made it so Vulcan can absorb them to recharge himself as well, which makes sense when you consider the nature of their powers and stuff. Also, I made Vulcan, being an Omega, have formidable psychic powers.

3) This story has weird unexplanable plot points as you will discover. My original intentions were to expand this into a series of similar ficlets, which would be linked by said plot points that seem to be totally random. (i.e. Stryfe's appearance in this story)

4) Don't try fitting this story anywhere in the comic, it just won't work! Just go with the characters that appear and be happy )

Ok, happy reading and don't forget to comment!

* * *

"What is this," he sneered, "a family reunion?"

"Yes," Scott growled, "now tell us who you are and what you want right now!"

The dark haired man's face hardened immediately. "You mean you don't know?"

"Why the hell should I?" Scott answered, visor glowing and ready.

"Goddamn that old fool! I knew I should have disposed of him early on. Get out of my way Cyclops, I'm going to find Xavier and kill him for this, and I won't mind going through you, _any_ of you!"

"I'd rethink that," Alex said, crouching low and readying himself; his fists began to glow as he gathered solar energy around him, "we may not always agree with Xavier, but we're sure as hell not gonna you kill him. Now, tell us who you are!"

"You can call me Vulcan. Now, get the hell out of my way!" His entire body began to glow and radiate raw energy. He roared and fired a blast of energy at them.

Jean immediately reacted and put up a protective force field. Vulcan's massive power struck the field, but was easily deflected, where it proceeded to do massive damage to the lawn of the Mansion.

Alex and Scott both immediately fired their own concussive blasts of energy, but Vulcan only laughed and leaped out of the way.

The other X-men, just exiting the Mansion, jumped into the fray. Psylocke fired her psychic javelins at Vulcan, who waved a hand and easily directed them back at her. She ducked, but wasn't quite fast enough, and grimaced as one of them slashed her side.

She flew towards Colossus, who jumped over her and aimed a punch at Vulcan. The mutant dodged and blasted Colossus with raw energy, the combined momentum of that and his already moving torso sent him flying.

Polaris took control of Colossus' metal body and, with a grunt, redirected his flight back at Vulcan, who tried to fly out of the way but not fast enough. The tank like force sent him staggering. He gasped a few breaths, then his eyes lit up and his entire body charged with energy, which he directed squarely at Polaris.

Jean quickly moved Polaris out of the way with her telepathy. Vulcan sensed her and turned, quick as a flash he sent a psi-wave at her. But the Phoenix is anything but weak, and only absorbed the wave. Jean gasped, she felt the power within her surge; she couldn't, she wouldn't let her powers spiral out of control. She quickly flew away from the battle and tried to calm herself. _Deep breaths_, she thought, _don't let the power consume you_.

Meanwhile, Havok charged himself, and fired at the unsuspecting Vulcan. The blast hit him full force, but strangely, nothing happened. Vulcan absorbed Alex's power easily and turned around, confusion and surprise written on his face. Polaris took full advantage and sent a metal spear flying his way. Vulcan quickly registered the attack and flew out of the way.

When he next turned, Vulcan saw, to his delight, Xavier and Iceman running out of the Mansion.

"Xavier," Vulcan spat, flying towards the bald man.

"Gabriel, what—" Xavier stuttered.

Iceman quickly fired a freezing stream at him, but Vulcan only charged himself, the energy emanating from his body melting the ice on contact. Iceman gasped and quickly formed an ice bridge, speeding himself and the Professor away into the air. Vulcan's eyes darted up and he turned to follow but was deterred by way of Psylocke, who was trying to telepathically bring him down. Vulcan smirked, he concentrated, and directed a psi-wave directly at her. Psylocke screamed and flew several meters away before landing, unconscious.

Cyclops was ready. He took advantage, and the minute Vulcan attacked Psylocke, he fired his own blast at the man. As quick as he was though, Vulcan was faster, and he hastily formed a shield that blocked most of the blast, but the impact still sent him reeling into the air.

Behind him, Polaris had taken flight, and was manipulating Colossus' rigid body in the air to give him maximum speed. Colossus head was tucked, and ready to be fired. When she saw Psylocke, Polaris, enraged, directed Colossus forward with all her strength. Vulcan sensed the presence and quickly turned, and fired a concussive blast of energy from his hands. Colossus continued surging forward, but his speed was greatly reduced. Vulcan's eyes glowed as he unleashed more power, slowing Colossus down, and then slowly sending him backwards straight into Polaris. The two of the crumpled.

Now on the ground again, Xavier pressed his fingers to his temple, and tried to stun the man, still not quite believing that he was back. Vulcan felt the attempt and laughed.

"Always with your tricks," he snarled, "I've prepared myself since then you asshole."

Vulcan's eyes glowed again and he too called on his telepathy, engaging with the Professor in a mental duel. But, as powerful as Xavier was, Vulcan's energy was fueled by anger and vengeance, and he had no problem unleashing all of his power. Coming from an Omega, Charles had no chance. He screamed in pain as Vulcan assaulted his mind. Iceman once again directed a beam of ice at him, momentarily distracting him. His hold on Xavier's mind weakened, and the Professor forcefully broke the connection, gasping for breath. Vulcan snarled and felt his lower half quickly succumbing to the ice. He charged his body once more, and the ice melted. But immediately, Havok's energy beam surrounded him. Vulcan felt the most warming sensation as his body absorbed Havok's discharged energy. Cyclops quickly joined his brother, but he took off his glasses, and released everything at the enemy.

Vulcan felt strain as his body tried to absorb the energy as fast as it was being unleashed. For a moment he felt he had control, but as Cyclops added his heat to the fray, Vulcan gasped and shot through the air, his body slamming through the Mansion and out the other side. Confused as to how he could possibly absorb the foreign energy at all, Vulcan lay on the ground for a moment, catching his breath. Seconds later, his body recharged and began glowing once more as he flew up into the air and surveyed the X-men. He smirked.

The first thing that happened next, was Cyclops heard Xavier yelling for help.

The second thing that happened was that Vulcan, prepared to destroy the man that had ruined his life, sent out a concentrated psionic blast, so powerful, it was tangible.

The third thing that happened was that Havok, seeing Cyclops running to help Xavier without noticing what Vulcan was doing, ran over and shoved Cyclops out of the way.

Scott stared, stunned as the psionic blast hit Alex full on, his little brother's expression a mixture of shock and anger. The strike immediately killed Havok, and Scott was left only with a lingering gaze as Alex's eyes went blank. It didn't stop there. The blast, full of raw power, the full unleashed potential of an Omega mutant, surged onward, and hit the Professor. Although it was now weakened by Alex's sacrifice, the Professor was already severely injured, and the attack completely destroyed his mind.

Vulcan smiled as both Havok and Xavier hit the ground, their bodies unmoving.

Scott was about to scream, to cry, was about to charge, was about to kill this murdering bastard.

But nothing like that could happen, because at that moment,

The Phoenix emerged.

Jean had tried to control the power in her. The minute she felt the arrogance, the urge to use her power, she quickly backed out. This weakness frustrated her. Although she had only fully merged with the Phoenix less than a year ago, the fact that she was unable to fully reign in her power was disappointing. She'd thought she had more control.

The Phoenix was no longer a dual personality within her, it _was_ her. No longer could she blame her actions on a force beyond her control, she could fully manifest the powers of the Phoenix and then use them for good or evil. The only problem was, this power often overwhelmed her senses. Power intoxicates her, and that's when she craves destruction.

When Jean felt the psi-signatures of Xavier, and more importantly, her brother-in-law disappear off the face of the earth, she knew she could no longer stand by. Giving herself over to the pleasure that the Phoenix provided her, she embraced her power.

Now, hovering in the air, she smiled as she sensed a twinge of fear come over Vulcan. She saw her husband move to attack the murderer of his brother and mentor. She knew he, none of the X-men, had the power to destroy him. She easily shoved Cyclops aside with a telepathic nudge.

Jean took a deep breath. A fire grew in her, grew around her, consumed her. It took the Phoenix form, she struck out her right hand and caught Vulcan within the grasp of one of her talons.

"That wasn't nice, you murdering son of a bitch."

Jean stuck out her other hand, and Vulcan was doubly trapped. With a smile, she began to squeeze.

Vulcan felt the pressure coming on in waves. _Not gonna make it that easy on you_, he thought, and charged up his own energy. With a blast, he forcefully broke free of Jean's grasp and hovered in front of her. He smiled, this was certainly a real challenge.

Vulcan closed his eyes and opened his mind. Jean, noting this, followed suit. Their minds clashed. Each was grimacing with the effort.

Jean's eyebrows knit as she concentrated, willing Vulcan to break, to be destroyed. The other likewise focused on sending this energy back, on killing the Phoenix force.

The X-men left standing stared in awe as the two great Omega superpowers dueled in midair, the shockwaves from their mental battle slowly crossing the threshold into reality, rippling across the Mansion's grounds, tearing up the grass and causing catastrophic damage.

Scott just stood and watched, willing Jean to succeed. This man would pay, this man who killed his brother.

Vulcan's eyes flew opened and he surged all his energy in a mental storm against Jean. Jean felt its oncoming impact and prepared herself. She took the full force, but in this empowered state, nothing could stop her. Jean smiled, feeling that Vulcan's was indeed beginning to overexert himself. She laughed a loud and ended the mental connection. Not a second later, she began barraging Vulcan repeatedly with fire and psychic assaults at the same time. _You can dodge, but not them all._

She hurled herself through the air at him, Vulcan prepared a quick shield that barely deflected the blow, as he still felt the shock. Jean smiled, she was just beginning to play. She telekinetically froze Vulcan in place, and then sent him careening into the ground, forming an immediate crater. She hovered over him, a pinprick from the air, concentrated, and directed a psionic shockwave at him.

Vulcan cried out in pain as he felt his body being compressed, compacted further into the ground. Iceman moved quickly, and bridged himself and Cyclops out of the way. The team leader had a set expression on his face, and wasn't saying anything. Iceman surveyed the scene worriedly. Jean laughed as she displaced more matter and the crater grew significantly, the struggling Vulcan at its epicenter.

Just as quickly as she started, she stopped, and once more, lifted the now battered Vulcan into the air with her claws.

But he tricked her. Feigning weakness, Vulcan let himself be maneuvered face to face with Jean. Once in place, he surged against her, and his massive energy concussion sent her reeling backwards. Jean stopped herself in midair. Enraged, the flaming Phoenix around her grew, and she launched himself at Vulcan, this time, letting her burning wings embrace him.

Vulcan struggled, but Jean quickly silenced his mind. While Vulcan was a formidable telepath himself, Jean was a god. She easily stripped his mental defenses and then, proceeded to gleefully roast his body within her flames.

In this form, she gently touched down on the ground. The Phoenix form melted away, and Jean stood there, looking down at Vulcan's smoking, but very much living, body. She glanced as Scott, who was now making his way towards them. In her eyes was no regret for what she had done, and what she was about to do. She stepped back, and caught Scott's eye for a moment. A flash of understanding passed. Cyclops stood over Vulcan's beaten body for a moment before kneeling down.

"WHY?!" he demanded, his anger was beyond words, beyond emotion. There was nothing he could feel but anger, but a hunger for vengeance. He felt no sadness, no pity. All that had been lost with Alex

Iceman made a move to help him, but Jean held him back, and shook her head.

Scott barely registered anything.

"Because—" Vulcan began, his voice raspy and dissonant.

Scott silenced him with a glare, and stood up again.

It took him a moment to realize that Vulcan had tears streaming down his face.

"You gonna kill me Scotty? Would you? Could you?"

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't."

It was then that Vulcan realized, to his horror, that the reason lay dead, lying a few feet away; dead by his own hand. _How ironic_, he thought, closing his eyes against the inevitable. He parted his lips—

"Don't," Scott interjected, "whatever you say, I wouldn't care. You've killed the Professor. But moreover, you killed Alex. And for that, you're going to die."

Never a cold-blooded murderer, Scott decided, in that instance, that exceptions had to be made. He slowly removed his visor, the only thing keeping his near limitless power in check. Eyes still closed, he aimed down.

Vulcan had opened his eyes by now. He made no sound, but the tears never stopped flowing. He felt the warmth of the blast before he registered the pain. He was enveloped in red, and he loved it. The energy recharged him, healed him. But his body was already too destroyed to recover. Vulcan, remembering the feeling from earlier, suddenly knew.

_It's healing me, but then…no! Alex, he, he was…_

He never finished that horrific thought. Scott's energy beams invaded his body, flowed into every cell, every molecule of his being.

There was nothing left.

* * *

The temporal rift opened on bleak grounds.

Cable stepped out, Stryfe in tow. He stared around in shock, not knowing what had happened, until he saw the still forms of three lone X-men. He saw Gabriel too, right before Scott's energy beam disintegrated his body. _No_, he thought, _we're too late_. Stryfe made a move, but Cable stopped him. _No, not now, they'll kill you too, just go_. His twin nodded in understanding, and silently moved away.

Cable inched forward, there was a ringing in his ears and a disbelief in his mind. He never thought Scott could kill, just like that.

It was Jean who first registered his presence. She looked up at him with a pained expression, almost as if to ask, _why weren't you here to help?_

He stared back at her, sadness written over his face. _If only they knew…_

"Scott," he hoarsely said, the words barely forming.

"Gabriel Summers, that man was Gabriel Summers; that was your brother."


	2. Rip Into Being

Peace.

Harmony.

Collective.

Random, stray thoughts flit in and out. Vestiges of a powerful mind. Stream across the earth, infiltrate every living organism.

Peace.

Harmony.

Collective.

Voices, bits and pieces. Mutterings, prayers, wishes and hopes. Lullabies and song. Breathing in the warmth, the life.

Dream.

Rest.

The life, flowing across the world. Empowering every individual. The lifestream, the awareness.

Voices a littler louder. A pulling sensation. How? Feeling doesn't exist here, he thinks. He _thinks_? Thinking should not be.

Clutter.

Confusion.

Headache, perhaps. Pounding and persistent. Shadowed, a face frowns against the void. Frowns? Face? How? There is no physicality here.

Form.

Presence.

Harder, stronger. An immense feeling. Inescapable, urgent. Pulling, harder, faster. Condensing form. _What_?

Cold, wind, blue. Sharp intake of breath. It's getting closer now. Harder, he feels like he's suffocating from too much air. Lungs pulsate, heart beats. Feeling returns, fingers flex. What's happening? A minute, two minutes. He thinks he is being ripped.

A sharp echo, reverberates around the world. Solid form. Gasp of _what_? Blue eyes open again. A light flickers and dies. Lifestream flows faster. Faster, faster. Pulls inward, condenses. One focal point, like a small universe unto itself. Big bang, or crunch, or _something_.

Body.

Life.

The earth stills and quiets. In the snow, he's there.

Unconscious, barely breathing. Eyes shut.

* * *

"In just two more days," the purple haired woman speaks aloud.

"Too long," her companion gruffly replies.

"Aww, be patient, two days will come and go before you know it."

He snorts, but decides eating is more important than talking. The Asian woman makes a face.

"Cable, where are your manners? You're not some barbarian you know."

He continues shoveling food in his face wolfishly and ignores her.

"Well I'm done with my lunch. When _you_ are done with yours, I'll see you outside."

* * *

It's bright and sunny when he finally emerges. She gets up from her meditative position and cross her arms. She pokes him squarely in the chest.

"I hope you're aware, mister, that some of _us _shop everyday and cook everyday to ensure that _others_ have the ability to eat more food than the entire population of most island nations. Next time you're on a binge, perhaps _you_ can buy the food and cook it yourself."

"Sorry," he shrugs.

How can anyone be so nonchalant? She thinks, but with a hint of smile; Cable can seem so innocent at times.

"Ready?" Cable asks, his eye coming to life.

"I've been ready," she retorts back, "been waiting for _you_."

He doesn't let her talk anymore. Damn woman talks too much, he thinks, as he launches himself forward, fist out.

Psylocke jumps and somersaults past the attack, her blades out and screaming. She reaches to slice Cable as he, propelled by momentum, continues his flight.

_Gotcha_, he thinks, anticipating the attack. He stops his motion easily, having faked the amount of force he put into it. With some measure of elegance he twists his large torso over and parries her strike, before countering with a kick that sends her flying.

Psylocke snaps her head back and hovers in midair, grinning as she wipes a speck of blood from her chin. After a brief moment she launched forward, blade out. Cable saw her coming, and was just about to reach forward and pull her crashing to the ground when suddenly, Psylocke grinned and used the large boulder she had been manipulating behind his back to slam into his body, pummeling him into the ground. She gracefully twisted her body and flipped out of her initial launch. She landed on the ground and flipped her hair behind her. Blades gleaming, deadly as ever. These sparring sessions were nice, she thought, a good way for her to gain some valuable practice. Cable might be stronger, but she was infinitely sneakier. And with Cable, she didn't have to worry about holding back, a good thing compared to all the checks she had put on her abilities when sparring (or teaching, as Cyclops so delicately put it) all the younger students residing in the Mansion.

She didn't have much time to think. The boulder suddenly came flying her way, and she barely had time to slice through it. Not that it did her any good, the two halves of the boulder flew apart, but right through them came Cable. She yelped in surprise and didn't have time to dodge his fist completely. But Psylocke wasn't about to go down that easily. Even as she was hit she was already raising her foot up, and kicked Cable with her heel. The two of them flew some feet apart, both landing on the ground in fighting stances.

"Aagh!" She didn't really have time to react when Cable collapsed. Her first thought was, oh shit, what did I do? But then, she hadn't done anything. Psylocke rushed forward and kneeled down next to Cable, who had pressed his palms to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Cable? Cable! What's wrong, what's happening?" It seemed as if he'd suffered some telepathic assault, but Psylocke was sure she would've felt a residual energy from whatever could have done this much damage to her practically invulnerable opponent.

"Cable!" she tried to hold him steady with her arms as she tried to engage his mind, projecting a soothing aura. She may not be an expert at telepathy, but she knew he would be able to detect her energy.

Cable expelled a large amount of air and gasped, trying to normalize his breathing. What was that? He thought, it was massive, whatever it is. A moment later and he had calmed down enough to put his hands down and open his eyes, looking into Psylocke's worried features.

"What was it? An attack?" she questioned.

"No," he breathed, still a bit shaken. "Not an attack, I can't place it. It was like an immense sonic scream, only telepathic. You didn't feel anything?"

"No," she said, perplexed.

Cable frowned and looked at the sky. He tried concentrating, pinpointing the location. It was almost like a cry of help, and it seemed so familiar, as if he knew the person. But was it even a person? The telepathic blast was so primal, inhuman in some ways.

"Let's get back inside," Cable said, as he slowly propped himself up, and then took Psylocke's hand, pulling him upright.

"Are you sure you're ok?" It was just them at the Mansion, no one to see what was wrong, Psylocke thought worriedly. She wished Emma were here. Cable may have not liked her, inheriting something, perhaps, from Jean's genetic makeup, but Emma was the only one capable of administering any kind of psychotherapy. Now that Jean had passed and the Professor was trapped within the recesses of the M'Kraan Crystal, she thought.

"I'm fine," Cable chided, sensing her thoughts, "I don't need therapy, and not from Emma, at any rate. Just another telepath awakening into his powers probably. Damn strong telepath, but that's nothing new."

"But why didn't I hear it?" Psylocke muttered, as she and Cable walked back up the steps to the Mansion.

"Well," Cable replied, "you're somewhat more distant from telepathic assaults, and I guess this, on some level, qualifies."

Psylocke nodded, but was still not completely satisfied. Shouldn't I have felt something? she thought.

* * *

"Two more days!" The goggled man noted, trying to be somewhat optimistic about their current situation.

"Wonderful," was the white haired man's sarcastic response. He glanced again at his cards and then at Scott.

"Hey," the other cautioned, "no telepathic cheating, remember?"

"'M not," came the defiant response.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, I will see your bet and raise you two chips."

Stryfe sighed and folded his cards. He had nothing. Scott grinned and collected his winnings: pebbles, that they were calling chips.

"Ok, no more."

"So, what?" Scott said, counting his 'winnings.' "You just want to sit here for the rest of the two days?"

"WHAT?" Stryfe yelled, rubbing his temple. He had suddenly felt something, a strong telepathy.

"Um, I asked what we were going to do for the next two days. And then you yelled 'WHAT,' " Scott said, frowning at his companion. "Are you feeling ok?"

"Sure, great," Stryfe mumbled, "thought I felt something, must've been nothing."

Scott nodded and quashed his need to father Stryfe. What was he supposed to do? Stryfe was even more difficult than Cable, and Scott had only recently accepted his previous enemy into his life. If he had thought his relationship with Cable was awkward, it was nothing like his relationship with Stryfe. He was always unsure what to do, what to say. On the first day of their mission, he had opened up a bit. Apologized to Stryfe. Tried to make amends. But Stryfe was clearly even more weirded out than his father, and waved an acceptance. Admittedly, they were bonding over the extreme boredom, but Scott still worried about his newfound son. He frowned, even that word sounded awkward, if anything, their relationship was more like teammates who tip toed around the other than familial. Still, he thought, Stryfe is my _son_.

* * *

The moonlight filtered in through the windows. Cable tossed and turned, and finally opened his eyes again. 2am. He hadn't fallen asleep after being in bed for three hours. Something still echoed in his head. Some trace of the telepathy he had felt earlier. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. What was it?

The curtains shook a bit, and Cable finally got up, deciding sleep was useless, a waste of time. He walked to the window and closed it, quieting the whispers of the wind. The moonlight filtered in through the paned glass and he stared upwards, hands propped against the base of the frame. His left eye glowed.

He had to find out the truth. Now.

The window creaked open and closed behind him. Cable's form flew upwards into the sky. North, where the echo seemed strongest.

North, where something was pulling him.

* * *

The sky was still mostly black over the Arctic, although a ring of orange was slowly creeping forth from the edges of the earth. Cable could still see the moon, the stars, the faintest of which were slowly surrendering their light to the coming dawn. The air, like it always was in the colder regions, was crisp, clean, fresh and clear.

There was a silence so thick that when Cable halted his flight, and just floated, he thought it was the most tranquil and peaceful feeling he'd ever experienced. When the silence was so pervasive it almost seemed as if there were thick layers of blankets covering the ears. Only cold blankets.

This, he reflected, must be what the Askani felt when they reached the height of their meditative trances. He imagined that, floating upside down in the air, with the blood pulsing in your head, would be similar. But then again, he'd never had the patience himself to try. He remembered fondly Aliya had tried to teach him, but he had crept away once she reached her trance like state. He was gone for hours; she had been extremely upset, he had shrugged. Nothing could rid him of his inability to stay still for hours, what is, is.

Cable's breath came out in puffs as he scanned the expanse of cold ice and snow below him. The echo was strongest here, he could still feel lingering thoughts, voices, from whatever had called out earlier. They led him here, to the cold Canadian deserts. Below him, he could see nothing but the snow that, in the darkness of the morning, seemed a deep shade of blue.

Cable flew closer to the ground and concentrated, trying to draw up the sensation of the telepathic blast he had experienced. Tried to use it, to retrace its steps, where had it come from?

There!

His heightened senses suddenly alerted him to a still shadow against the paleness of the snow. A body, he thought, as he drew closer, ever wary of a trap.

But a few steps more and he became even more suspicious; he recognized the unmoving form, sprawled out against the snow like a twisted angel. Brown hair, streaks of white. If the man's eyes were open, Cable knew the left one would be glowing, just like his. It was someone he knew, but also someone whom he knew couldn't possibly exist in physical form. But a quick yet thorough mind scan told him otherwise. The man was indeed who he suspected; no intruder, no imposter, no illusion.

Nate Grey.


End file.
